


Interlude XVIII

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [149]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Heaven, M/M, Timelines, musings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:51:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: An Angel of Thursday has to wear bright purple, and Sherlock's father has empathy towards King Edward III.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesquirrelofsquee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesquirrelofsquee/gifts).



Sachiel stared down at his costume, and frowned.

“I look like an eggplant!” he groused.

“You have to wear this to play the part”, Inias said firmly, and his friend noted that he did not deny the sartorial observation. “Besides, this was a common method of travel in those times, and lots of people wore similar uniforms.”

“It all seems a lot of trouble”, Sachiel lamented. “Just to delay Doctor John Watson, and then make him grateful that our Father seems to be on his side. I am surprised that She allowed him to do it.”

The silence was ominous. Sachiel suddenly felt more than a little queasy.

“He did... He did get Her permission?” he asked nervously.

“We have arranged to divert any unpleasant consequences to some high mountain ranges”, Inias assured him. “There may be a sudden glut of avalanches and the odd mountain appearing or disappearing, but humans are amazing when it comes to finding explanations for strange things. Most likely they will just call it all an Act of God.”

“Close to the truth”, Sachiel said wryly. “Just missing the 'Mrs.'!”


	2. Chapter 2

_[Begin narration by Sir Charles Holmes]_

I have to say that, for all his failings as a monarch, King Edward III had my sympathies at times like this. He and I shared little except that we had both had too many sons, and whilst his descendants ended up clefting the Plantaganet dynasty in twain, mine... yes.

Mycroft, my eldest, was frankly a disappointment. He was one of those son-and-heirs who thought it quite all right to make it clear how he would run things so much better, although when he was stupid enough to voice those opinions in my dear wife's presence, she made manifest her displeasure. Apparently it is not just those Aborigines who can throw things around a corner!

Lucius, Mycroft's twin, was a puzzle. Like Gaylord and Bacchus, he worked for the government in a capacity that I was very glad not to inquire too closely into, and seemed totally committed to that. Whereas Mike was married (somehow), Luke was very happily single. My dear wife's suspicions about him had recently proven quite correct when he had decided to 'settle down' with his cousin Samandriel, to the evident fury of several of his siblings.

Ranulph, my third son, was one of those who would, I felt, never marry. He had far too high an opinion of himself, one totally unjustified by the precious few gifts that the Good Lord had bestowed on him. He was bigoted and mean, and (although one should never have favourites) the least likeable of the whole bunch. He once made the mistake of asking my dear wife just what it was about him that the fairer sex appeared not to find perfectly wonderful; she 'generously' had it make into a book for him!

Bacchus also worked for the government, and I think it fair to say that he did so without Luke's humanity. My fourth son was always cold and unemotional when it came to real people, and at this time my wife had still not forgiven him for the Abbas Parva incident. It had been, sadly, typical of the fellow. Like Ranulph, he consistently failed to grasp just why this attitude was thrown back at him by so many people on his life; my wife once wisely remarked that for all those brains, he had no sense at all.

Gaylord lived life very much on the surface, and I doubted that he would ever settle down. He was perhaps the most surprising member of my family to work for the government, but there was a core of decency beneath the flippant surface, and I hoped that that would one day shine through. Which – after rather too many practical and impractical jokes – it did.

And finally Sherlock, my youngest. Living 'in sin' (as Mycroft, Ranulph and Bacchus kept telling me whenever my wife was not around) with his doctor friend, John Watson, and working as a consulting detective. His fame was spreading rapidly across London and the Empire, and although I fretted for his safety at times, I trusted to the Blessed Providence to keep him safe.

Just in case, however, I also trusted in Middleton's, the information agency, who for some reason held an interest in my youngest son, and whom I knew were keeping a wary eye on him. Which was just as well, as he was about to need help from somewhere.

_[End narration by Sir Charles Holmes]_


End file.
